


Make an Honest Man Outta Me

by Squeaky



Series: FTH Fics [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Fake Marriage, Fandom Trumps Hate, M/M, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-23 21:20:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16626623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeaky/pseuds/Squeaky
Summary: Steve Rogers can't abide liars. Too bad Bucky Barnes is so incredibly hot





	Make an Honest Man Outta Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [debwalsh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/debwalsh/gifts).



> This was written for the 2017 Fandom Trumps Hate auction for the generous [ debwalsh.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/debwalsh/pseuds/debwalsh) Thanks so much for buying this fic! 
> 
> Deb was looking for a Stucky 'fake relationship.' Deb, I hope you like my take on the trope.
> 
> My wonderful best friend [ Taste_is_Sweet ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_is_Sweet/pseuds/Taste_is_Sweet) did a lightning-quick beta which has absolutely made this story better. She thought the story could use an epilogue, so now it has one, because Tasty deserves all the happy endings.
> 
> * * *

“But there’s a tropical storm,” Steve Rogers repeated. _Again._ “The airline sent us here to get a room for the night. I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to expect you to have a _room_.” 

“We don’t have any rooms,” the young man behind the counter repeated. _Again._ His name tag said his name was ‘Gerald,’ which seemed far too old-fashioned for someone with black-rimmed hipster glasses. “We have nothing left under the airline discount. I’m really sorry sir, but perhaps I can call a taxi—”

Steve was standing in the lobby of the rather ritzy Airport Continental. He had finally made it to the front of the line after what had felt like a million other people had managed to snag whatever rooms might still be open on an extremely rainy night on a Tuesday in September. The tropical storm had been meant to die down significantly before it made landfall, but unfortunately all the meteorologists had been painfully incorrect, which meant that hundreds of airline passengers had ended up stranded. Most of them had to make the best of it at the airport, but Steve’s airline had decided to shuttle its passengers to the hotel. Which apparently had more guests than open rooms.

He’d been at LAX since dawn, waiting to board his flight home to JFK. The flight was delayed, and then delayed again, and then, hours, later, finally cancelled outright. It was now well past eleven p.m. and Steve was exhausted. Fighting for a room was the last thing in the world he wanted to be doing. 

“There’s a tropical storm,” Steve forced out through gritted teeth. “Which is why the _airline_ sent us here so we don’t have to wait at the _airport_ in the middle of a _tropical storm_. So, unless you’re planning on calling a _boat_ to get us through the storm, I very much doubt a taxi’s going to cut it.” 

Reflexively, Gerald looked upwards towards the huge glass window that towered over the lobby of the hotel. The window was coated in thick swaths of pelting rain, reflecting the storm raging outside. “It does look pretty bad out there,” Gerald said softly, and Steve felt a stab of guilt. He might be uncomfortable, but Gerald _lived_ in Los Angeles.

“Is…is your family okay?” 

“Oh, yeah.” Gerald nodded, eyes still firmly focused on the crashing lightning visible outside. “They’re safe in Alabama.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good?” Steve tried. 

Gerald made a face. “It’s Alabama.”

Steve had no reply to that. “I’m still looking for a room?” He hoisted his backpack higher on his shoulder.

Gerald rolled his eyes behind his thick frames, and Steve immediately lost any sympathy he’d had. “Amazingly enough, a discounted room hasn’t appeared in the last two minutes. I’m sorry but there’s really—”

“Wait,” Steve stopped him. “You said you don’t have any _discounted_ rooms left. So, you have regular rooms?”

“Well, yes,” Gerald hedged. “We have two. But they're both Honeymoon Suites. But they're intended four couples. On their Honeymoon." 

"So, if I was part of a couple…." Steve felt a spike of hope. He’d been dreading trying to cram his six-foot-two frame into one of the lobby chairs in order to get even a modicum of sleep. He turned to survey the people in line behind him, to see if there was anyone who might want to share with a stranger. 

There was a man who’d obviously perked up at the idea of sharing a room standing in line behind him. He looked to be near Steve’s age and Steve’s height, with wide shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. He was wearing an expensive raincoat over an equally expensive suit that beautifully framed his muscular body. Steve couldn’t help but notice that he was tieless and the top button of his shirt was open, exposing a perfect ‘V’ of tan skin. There was a designer bag draped against his left hip from a strap across his chest. With his wavy brown hair styled in a look reminiscent of the forties, he radiated a vibe of 'classic elegance'. His features were strong, even and incredibly handsome, like an old-timey movie star. But it was the humour and raw intelligence that flashed in his light blue eyes that stole Steve’s breath.

“Unfortunately," Gerald didn't sound like it was unfortunate at all, "you're not part of a couple. And the rooms are meant for people on their Honeymoon. Like I said. So it’s not really appropriate for two people who aren’t. Well. You know. Honeymooning.” 

“What?” Steve started, his constant irritation since meeting Gerald beginning to develop into real anger. “That’s the most ridiculous—” 

“I’m so glad I found you, doll!” the man from behind him exclaimed as he moved up to stand beside Steve. He wrapped his right arm around Steve’s waist and leaned in to peck Steve on the cheek. “I thought that you’d been left behind in the airport! I thought I’d have to spend my wedding night alone.” The look he gave Steve was positively smoldering.

“Wedding night?” Steve repeated stupidly. He was caught by the man’s gaze, pulled into the blue depths of his eyes. “It’s not—” 

The man sighed. “Okay, yeah. The storm totally wrecked our plans to elope. I know. But technically, this is still the night we were going to be married.” He grinned widely at Gerald. “So, what was that you were saying about rooms for couples?” 

Gerald eyes narrowed behind his thick frames. “Wait, you two are together?”

“Yes,” the man said with a sweet smile. He leaned in to Steve as if underscoring the point. His arm was still firmly around Steve’s waist, and Steve suddenly understood what was going on. He wrapped his arm around the man’s shoulders, pulling him closer.

“We’re engaged,” Steve said, trying not to wince at the way his voice cracked on the word. “Me and, um, my boyfriend. Him.” 

The man shot him a censuring look before turning back to Gerald, all smiles. “We were planning on getting married in New York. The East Coast is so romantic. But then this storm came…” He sighed deeply, like his heart was actually broken. 

“Where’s your engagement ring, then?” Gerald’s eyes were still narrowed, clearly deeply suspicious of Steve suddenly being a couple with the man who’d been standing in line behind him. 

The man lifted up his left arm, and Steve realized that what he’d thought was a trick of the light was actually the sleeve pinned up underneath the stump of an amputated limb. “It got blown off with the rest of my arm when I was overseas,” he said, expression tight. “Haven’t really felt like getting another one, y’know?” 

Gerald’s head bobbed back like a pigeon. “Oh. I. Uh. Thank you for your service?”

“Welcome,” the man practically snarled. “So, about that room?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Gerald immediately turned towards the keyboard, typing frantically. “I have our penthouse honeymoon suite still available. Would that work?”

“Perfectly.” the man was all smiles again, nuzzling affectionately against Steve’s cheek. 

“That’s great,” Steve choked. The man smelled amazing, and the way his breath was puffing against his ear…

“I just need names,” Gerald said. “And a credit card for incidentals?”

“How about you get this one, honey,” the man murmured against Steve’s cheek. Obediently Steve got out his wallet and pulled out his credit card. 

“Uh, how much is it?" Steve asked, trying to keep his voice from squeaking with anxiety. The penthouse suites were always the most expensive. 

“We have a discount for veterans of one-hundred-and-fifty dollars,” Gerald said with an anxious smile aimed entirely at the man pretending to be Steve's fiancé. “Which covers about a third of the room.” 

Steve winced. “Maybe the other suite—”

“It’s our honeymoon!” The man whined, and _actually batted his eyelashes._ “What’s a few extra dollars?”

_A hell of a lot when you’re a freelancer,_ Steve wanted to say, but he knew it wouldn’t fit with the scenario the man had created. And _damn_ but a comfortable, big bed felt like it’d be pretty perfect right about now. 

“Sure, sweetie,” Steve said, jaw clenched. He handed over his credit card. 

“Thank you, Mister Rogers,” Gerald said. “And the name of your fiancé?” 

“James,” the man filled in smoothly before Steve needed to respond. “James Barnes.” 

“Great. I need a home address and telephone number?” 

Steve rattled off his information, grimacing internally as he realized he’d probably be on the hook for the entire cost of the room. Hopefully his ‘fiancé’ wasn’t into expensive room service.

“Here you go, Mister Rogers, Mister Barnes,” Gerald said as he handed both men a key card. “Room is on the twenty-seventh floor. Continental breakfast starts at seven, and the pool is open until midnight. Well, unless the power goes out.” 

“Thank you _so much,_ ” James simpered. He took his card, pocketed it and then took Steve’s hand, before pulling Steve towards him possessively. “Take me to bed, or lose me forever.” 

“Okay,” Steve said, letting James lead him towards the elevators. His head was reeling. He was going to spend the night in the honeymoon suite with a gorgeous man who he’d never met before, who’d gotten them the room by pretending to be his fiancé. He’d never have believed it, except it’d just happened. 

“Press the button for me, doll?” James grinned at him, still gripping his hand. 

Steve pressed the elevator button. 

“Thanks, baby,” James purred, and pulled him inside.

* * *

As soon as the elevator doors closed, James dropped his hand. 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he sighed, running his hand through his hair. His grin was sheepish. “Just really didn’t relish spending a night in the lobby chairs, y’know?”

“It’s okay. I didn’t really want to do that, either,” Steve agreed readily. “Sharing a room with you will be much better than that.” He blushed. 

James smirked knowingly. The elevator chimed as it reached the twenty-seventh floor. “So I’ve been told.” 

They walked in silence towards their room, Steve’s face flaming and James’ decorated by the same smirk he had in the elevator. The room was at the far end of the hall and it was just as luxurious as its being the penthouse Honeymoon Suite would imply. The room contained a king-sized bed with about a thousand throw pillows, a two-person table, a huge television on the wall opposite the bed, and the usual closet/dresser combination. 

James’ was leaning into the bathroom inspecting what it had to offer. Steve peeked over his shoulder. There was a massive shower and a huge jacuzzi tub sunk into the tile floor. 

It was a room to have sex in, and suddenly Steve couldn’t make eye-contact with his incredibly hot pseudo-fiancé. He stood by the bathroom, unsure what to do with himself.

“Having a tub in the floor like that, seems like a big tripping hazard,” James mused. He kicked off his shoes, dropped his bag on the floor with less care than such an expensive item should warrant, and pulled open the closet before stepping inside. “Holy shit!” he called a moment later. “This thing’s bigger than my apartment!” 

That snapped Steve out of his embarrassment-induced haze. “Really?” He followed James inside. The closet wasn’t as big as an apartment, but it was probably almost the size of the room Steve had in the apartment he shared with Sam in Brooklyn. It was floor-to-ceiling shelves on three sides, with one side reserved for hanging clothes. It made Steve immediately wonder how many suitcases your average couple would bring on their Honeymoon. 

James hung up his overcoat, deftly maneuvering it onto the hanger with only his right hand. Then he shucked his suit jacket and hung it up beside his coat, all done with a grace that Steve couldn’t help but envy. 

James looked at him a bit strangely, and Steve realized that he’d been watching the man long enough that he’d crossed over from ‘curious’ to ‘creepy.’ “You gonna take off your jacket?”

“Oh, yeah, right.” Steve put down his bag and shucked out of his leather jacket, hanging it up beside James’. He left the closet and then kicked off his own shoes, his well-worn sneakers looking somehow wrong beside James’ gleaming navy Oxfords. Then he stood there, unsure what to do next.

James exited the closet, now absent his suit jacket as well as his shoes. He wiggled his toes on the carpet. “Damn this place is fancy. You hungry?”

Steve was still fixated on James’ feet, and how strangely intimate it was to see him in his socks. “What?”

“Hungry,” James repeated. “I don’t know about you, but food at LAX is nothing to write home about. And besides, that was hours ago. I’m starving.” He grabbed the room service menu off of the table and plonked himself down on the bed, already browsing through it.

Steve hadn’t eaten any food at LAX that he hadn’t brought himself. Airport food was way outside his budget, but he also hadn’t rationed the few protein bars he’d brought with him, having no idea at the beginning of the day how it was going to end. He _was_ hungry, but he was also broke. “I’m fine,” he said, just as his stomach gave out a low growl.

James shot Steve a look. 

“I’m a little hungry?” Steve amended. 

James was still looking at him. “You a vegetarian?” 

“No?”

“You like alcohol?”

“Yes?”

“Good. Because I’m going to order a couple of burgers. And a beer. Because it’s been that kind of day.” 

“Okay,” Steve said, and James immediately reached over for the room phone and was chatting up the receptionist a few seconds later. Steve could’ve kicked himself. The food and alcohol were going on _his_ credit card, and alcohol wasn’t cheap at the best of times. He was sure that this simple meal was going to set him back nearly a hundred bucks. Money he could ill-afford. He should’ve said something to James. He should’ve said no.

But he was hungry, and it had been hours since he’d eaten. Maybe he could charge some of the expenses back to his client? 

Or he could just ask James to pay his share, he thought. He swallowed. “Hey, um, James?”

“So, what brought you to LAX?” James asked. He was now leaning against one of the millions of throw pillows, right hand behind his head and ankles crossed. The position showed the shadow of taught abdominal muscle and Steve felt his mouth go dry. James really was one of the most attractive men Steve had ever seen.

“Work,” Steve said after probably too long a pause. “I’m doing some consulting for Stark Industries and they flew me out there for a meeting.” 

James sat up. “No shit? I was at Stark Industries too.” His eyes narrowed. “Your meeting didn’t happen to be a job interview, did it?”

“Kind of? They were reviewing my portfolio to see if they want me to do some illustrations for them.”

“Illustrations? For what?”

“For their new line of prosthetics,” Steve explained. “They need a scientific illustrator to help them conceptualize how the finished prosthetics should look, and well…” he shrugged.

“Huh.” James looked impressed. “I was out there for that same project. Except I was being interviewed for an engineering position.” His expression turned wicked. “Glad that you weren’t interviewing for that job, because I’d probably have to kill you.”

Steve blanched. “What?”

“I’m joking! Oh my God, the look on your face!” James laughed, but then he sobered. “But seriously. I really need that fucking job. I just about bankrupted myself buying a new outfit for the interview. I had to get my friend Natasha to cut my hair, I’m so fucking broke.” 

Steve’s face fell. There went any chance of James paying him back. But what James was saying didn’t make sense. It was artists and other creative types that had trouble paying the bills. Not professionals like engineers. “But you shouldn’t have any trouble finding a job.”

James raised one eyebrow. “And yet, here I am.” He sighed. “No, you’re right. I shouldn’t have any trouble, but people are fucking prejudiced, so I do.” He raised his left arm to demonstrate.

“Wait. Are you saying that you’ve had trouble finding a job because you’re _disabled?_ ”

“I prefer Adaptivist. But, yeah. Me missing an arm freaks a lot of people out. Which is weird, because it’s not catching. Y’know?” 

Steve sat down on the edge of the bed. “That’s terrible.” 

“Tell me about it.” James shrugged. “So I’m kind of hoping that a project actually building prosthetics for people missing limbs will be okay with hiring one. They said they’d let me know next week, so fingers crossed!” He grinned.

“I hope you get it,” Steve said sincerely. He hated the idea of people being discriminated against for any reason. But especially for someone like James, who’d lost his limb while fighting for his country… “I mean, it’s so hard to believe that people wouldn’t hire a _veteran!_ The fact you’re missing your arm shouldn’t—”

“I’m not a veteran.”

Steve’s pro-veteran rant skidded to a halt. “You’re not? But you said—”

James shrugged nonchalantly. “The kid was being an idiot. I let him jump to the conclusion that suited us best.” 

Steve was scandalized. “But you told him it was blown off when you were overseas!” 

“It was. I was working on an oil rig right after graduation. There was an accident and my arm got blown off. An oil rig is like the definition of overseas. Because it’s _over seas._ Get it?” He grinned. 

Steve blinked at him. “That’s…pretty clever, actually.” 

“I’m a genius.” James smiled broadly. “And hey, having a bum left arm has to be useful for _something._ ” He shifted so that he was lying on the pillows again. “Come on. This bed is comfortable.” 

Steve climbed up onto the bed, lying down on the mountain of pillows beside James, working very hard not to let any part of their bodies touch. He was painfully aware of how close they were, and how they were _lying together on a bed._ If only he didn’t find James so damn attractive…

“So, Steve, tell me something,” James said conversationally. “Since we’re meant to be married and all, I should probably know more about you.” Steve could hear the mirth in his voice. 

Steve cleared his throat. “What do you want to know?” 

“Where’d you grow up? Why art? Why science illustration? Chocolate or vanilla? Democrat or Republican? You a feminist? You know, that sort of stuff.” 

Steve laughed. “Okay. Um, I’m Brooklyn born and raised. I was sick a lot as a kid and art was a way to escape from that, you know? So I just kind of kept doing it. Science is cool, but I wouldn’t want to be a scientist, so drawing it is the next best thing. Chocolate, Democrat and yes. Yes, I am a feminist.” He smiled. “Anything else?”

“Sick as a kid, huh?” James gave him a solid once-over. “You look pretty healthy now.” 

Steve blushed. “The miracles of modern medicine. So, same questions for you, except why engineering?” 

“I actually grew up in Brooklyn as well, and in two minutes we need to compare addresses to see why we don’t know each other already,” James said. “Engineering is this great combination of theoretical knowledge and actual doing, so it seemed like an easy choice. My specialty is mechanical engineering, which is the best one. Just ask me. And yes, chocolate, Democrat and you can’t grow up with three sisters and a mother like mine and not be a feminist, so I’m gonna say yes to that, too.” James’ eyes were warm with humour. “So, where in Brooklyn?”

That led to a lively discussion on which Brooklyn neighbourhood was the best, the schools they’d gone to, and an inspection of whether or not they had any friends in common. James was an excellent and avid listener, always ready with a question whenever the conversation looked like it might be flagging. He was also as bright as he’d boasted and twice as funny. It would be really easy to fall in love with James. 

As if sensing his thoughts, James rolled over onto his side, propping himself up with his good hand. His light blue gaze had gone from smiling to smoldering. “I got another question.” 

Steve couldn’t look away. He swallowed against a mouth suddenly gone dry. “Yes?”

“Do you like men, Steve?”

Steve nodded. 

James’ sensual mouth curved up. “Are you single?”

Steve nodded again. 

“Well, that’s good. Because I think you’re hot as hell and I really hope we can consummate this marriage before we get on that plane tomorrow,” James said, voice low and sultry.

Steve's cock twitched in response, blood beginning to pool merely from James’ voice and the look in his eyes. 

“Yes,” Steve breathed.

James leaned forward, his intention to kiss Steve more than obvious. Steve raised his chin and closed his eyes…

There was a loud knock on the door. 

Steve’s eyes flew open just in time to see James perk up at the sound. “There’s our food!” 

Steve stood and followed behind James, who had bolted off of the bed and had the door open. He was blatantly flirting with the young woman who had brought the cart of covered trays into their room.

“Thank you, Mister Barnes!” She simpered as she pocketed the couple of dollars that he’d handed her. “The kitchen slid a couple of extra things into your order, to help you celebrate.” She winked and then left.

“Dinner is served!” James immediately grabbed one tray and deftly maneuvered it to the table. He repeated the movement with the other tray and then uncovered them with a flourish before taking both beers, their glasses, two other small plates and the cutlery onto the table before Steve had a chance to sit down, all with one hand. “I used to be a waiter,” James explained as he and Steve sat. “It was a great way to help pay my way through undergrad.” 

“You were obviously good at it,” Steve mused. He picked up his burger and inspected it. It smelled fantastic. 

“I wasn’t just good, I was amazing!” James crowed. “If I’d stayed in that industry, I’d probably be a millionaire by now.” 

“But instead you’re so broke your friend has to cut your hair,” Steve said playfully. 

“You got to look the part!” James said, slightly put-out. “No one is going to hire you if you actually look like you _need_ the job.” 

“I kind of thought looking like you needed work was the point?” Steve murmured.

“Hell no.” James frowned. “You want them courting _you._ Not the other way around. If you look like you need the job, they’ll wonder why you don’t have one already, and trust me. What they assume won’t go in your favour.” He took a big bite of his burger. “Oh man,” he moaned. “This is fucking delicious.” 

Steve’s face heated at the sounds James was making, and he took a bite to cover his reaction. The burger really was good. Tender and flavourful with a tang that made it even more appealing. “Is that blue cheese? And bacon?”

“Yup.” James nodded. “We got the works but were only charged for the regular. We got a free dessert for each of us as well.” 

Steve looked at the other two plates on the table. They each had a generous slice of rich chocolate cake on them. Someone had written ‘Congratulations Mr. and Mr. Barnes!' in chocolate syrup around one of the slices.

“Mister and Mister Barnes? What?”

“I told the woman taking our order we got married in Los Angeles and were heading to New York for our Honeymoon, but we didn’t make it because of the weather. She felt bad and wanted to make our night a bit special.” He winked. 

Steve’s smile faltered. “But we’re not married.” 

James rolled his eyes. “No shit, Sherlock. But she doesn’t have to know that. Besides, it made them happy to do something nice for us. You saw how the server was smiling.” He took another bite of his burger.

Steve’s stomach twisted a little at James’ words. “So, you lied?”

“I didn’t _lie._ ” James made a face. “That front desk guy had registered us as a couple already. She was just going by what he said.”

“But you were the one who told him we were together.” 

“Yes, because we needed a room! And besides, he was being really rude to you. Serves him right.”

“But the room service lady wasn’t rude.”

“And she was super-happy to make our stay really special and I didn’t want to ruin it for her,” James said. He put down the uneaten edge of his burger. “What’s the big deal?”

“Because she told the kitchen and they gave us gourmet burgers, and dessert! For free!”

“It didn’t come out of anyone's paycheck,” James said. “This is a multimillion-dollar hotel chain. I think they can afford a little cheese.” 

James was probably right, but something about the situation still rankled. “I just think honesty is very important,” Steve said. 

James narrowed his eyes. “And you think I don’t?”

“Not what from what I’ve seen tonight, I don’t.” 

“Oh come on, Steve,” James said, frustrated. “Don’t give me that. You can’t tell me you’re honest in every situation.” 

“I think I am,” Steve said primly. 

“I don’t believe you. And besides, white lies are part of what helps keep the social order. If everyone told the truth all the time? It’d be chaos.”

“But look at our government!” Steve argued. “They’ve made lying part of the national agenda!”

James shook his head. “That’s not the same thing as what I’m talking about. White lies, lies of omission, telling people what they want to hear instead of telling them the truth…there’s a lot of good that comes out of doing that. Like these burgers.” He took another bite.

“But lying is lying,” Steve said hotly. “And making distinctions like that is just an excuse.” 

“An excuse for what?”

“For manipulating people! For…for _using_ them for your own ends. For making them think you’re being honest when you’re not.” And there. _That_ was why James’ lies bothered Steve so much. If he was willing to lie to the desk clerk and room service, what lies had he told Steve? _I think you’re hot as hell._

James took a long pull of his beer before pinning Steve with his pale blue eyes. “Are you saying that you don’t think I’m honest?”

Steve took a breath, knowing that this was a turning point. Either he let it go, or he and this extremely attractive stranger were going to get into a fight. And their fledging relationship would probably be completely destroyed in the process. Which would actually be really sad, because Steve _liked_ James. He was charismatic and funny and obviously intelligent. It was clear he was also a survivor, which was something Steve admired. But he was still a liar, which was something Steve couldn’t abide. 

And Steve had never backed down from a fight in his life. 

“Well, you lied to the desk clerk. You lied to room service. You bought an outfit to lie to Stark Industries about your employment status and you’ve probably lied to me about half-a-dozen things that I’m not even aware of since we met,” Steve said pugnaciously. “So how do you like them apples?” 

“How do I like…what’re you, twelve?” James shook his head and took another pull of his beer before putting it down and eating the rest of his burger. He looked up at Steve, who was still staring at him. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

Steve blinked. “Aren’t…aren’t you mad?”

“Mad?” James wiped his mouth on one of the monogramed napkins. 

“Yeah.” Steve’s chin was back out. “Because I called you a liar.” 

James shrugged. “Well, technically, I _did_ lie to that front desk jerk—who totally deserved it, by the way—and the young woman who brought our food, even though she obviously wanted me to. And I guess letting Stark Industries think I had a job when I _don’t_ is lying by omission… so, you’re not wrong.” He ate one of the copious French fries on his plate. “Damn, this is good. You should really eat before it gets cold.”

“Technically?” Steve spluttered. “ _Technically_ you lied to the front desk clerk? You did lie! We’re not engaged, James. We’re certainly not married! There’s no _technically_ about it!”

“Bucky,” James said. He popped another fry into his mouth.

That caught Steve up short. “Bucky? Who the hell is Bucky?”

“Me,” James—maybe Bucky—said. “You’d said I’d lied to you a half-dozen-times, but I actually only lied to you once. I don’t really go by James. My name’s Bucky.” 

“Your name is Bucky,” Steve repeated. 

“Yep.” 

“Then why did you tell me it was James?”

“I told the desk clerk it was James,” Bucky said. “Because that’s what it says on my ID. Bucky’s my nickname. But nobody calls me James.”

As lies went, Steve had to admit, it wasn’t a very big one. But it was the principle of the thing. Bucky obviously played fast and loose with the truth. _You’re hot as hell._ He crossed his arms. “Okay, _Bucky,_ what else have you lied to me about?”

Bucky frowned thoughtfully. “Pretty sure that was it. Oh, unless you didn’t know we’re not actually married.” He grinned and ate another couple of fries. 

“We’re not married,” Steve felt it necessary to reiterate. 

“Yet.” Bucky winked at him. “But who can say which way fate will take us?”

Steve’s jaw dropped. “ _What?_ ”

“Oh, come on. You can’t tell me that you haven’t been as aware of the sexual tension between us as I have. You’ve wanted to peel me out of my clothes ever since you saw me take off my shoes.” He lifted up one of his socked feet to illustrate, wiggling his toes. “And we _did_ nearly kiss before…”

_Ever since I saw you in line, more like._ Steve’s brain corrected helpfully. He scowled. “I don’t want to peel you out of your clothes.” 

Bucky’s smile turned downright wicked. “Who’s lying now?”

* * *

They finished dinner in silence. Awkward on Steve’s part, and smirky on Bucky’s. Steve was fuming. How the hell had Bucky turned the tables on him so _efficiently?_ One minute, Steve was _righteously_ berating Bucky for being a lying liar who lies, and the next…

Well, the next was Steve remembering their almost-kiss and trying really hard to keep an image of naked Bucky out of his head. 

Not that Bucky was helping in any way. 

“I never sleep with a top on,” Bucky said, emerging from the bathroom in a pair of thin cotton plaid sleep-pants and nothing else. “Hope that’s okay?” His grin made it obvious he knew exactly what his bare chest was doing to Steve. 

His bare, well-formed, _muscular_ chest, that Steve was definitely _not_ staring at. 

Steve forced his eyes to move, and they landed on Bucky’s amputation. The entire arm, from shoulder to where it ended abruptly just above his elbow, was a mass of scar tissue. It was clear that Bucky hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said it was ‘blown off.’ 

“Looks pretty awful, doesn’t it?” Bucky said mildly. “You should’ve seen it when it happened. It was a real mess.” 

“I’m sorry,” Steve said sincerely. “It must have been awful.” 

“It was,” Bucky said, his grin slipping. “There was a failure in our pressure control system, and it resulted in a surface blowout which also caught fire. If you can believe it, I was one of the lucky ones.” 

“I’m sorry,” Steve repeated. 

Bucky shrugged. “What doesn’t kill you, right? Besides, I knew the risks when I signed up.”

“For sure you knew the risks, But I’m also sure you didn’t sign up for _that._ ” 

Bucky tilted his head. “You’re right. I didn’t actually sign up to get my arm blown off. I guess I’ve never thought about it like that before.”

“No one goes to work expecting to be hurt, Bucky. No matter how risky the job is mean to be.” 

Bucky was still looking thoughtfully at Steve. “It was weird afterwards. Like, there were some people who actually made it seem like it was my fault because of how risky the job was.” 

“That sounds a lot like victim-blaming.” 

“Maybe it was. I just kind of accepted it.”

“But it wasn’t your fault!” Steve said vehemently. “It’s not fair what happened to you. It’s not right and it’s not fair and it should _never_ have happened. You should’ve been _safe_ and—”

“You just love a good fight, don’t you?” Bucky said, smirk once again curving his mouth. “I bet you were a real scrapper when you were a kid.” 

Steve immediately covered his scarred knuckles with his other hand. “Not really.” 

“Liar,” Bucky said, still grinning. He started moving closer to where Steve was sitting on the bed. “I can see it all over your face.”

“My face?” Steve repeated stupidly. Bucky was still moving towards him. Slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. Steve couldn’t look away from Bucky’s hooded grey eyes, sharp as a hawk’s. 

“Your face,” Bucky whispered. He reached out with his hand and stroked along the side of Steve’s jaw, letting his thumb slide along Steve’s bottom lip. “Your stupid, gorgeous face.” 

“My face isn’t stupid,” Steve said faintly. He was completely mesmerized by what Bucky was doing; the light in his eyes, the knowing smile gracing his sensual mouth. 

“I also said gorgeous.” Bucky put his hand on the back of Steve’s neck, moving close enough that Steve could feel the heat from Bucky’s body. “I really want to kiss you, Steve. Can I do that?”

“We barely know each other,” Steve whispered, gaze locked on Bucky’s lips. 

“My middle name’s Buchanan,” Bucky said. 

Steve leaned forward and kissed him. 

Bucky’s mouth immediately opened to Steve and he moaned. Steve pressed the advantage, putting his hands on Bucky’s back, feeling the smooth skin and strong muscle underneath. Bucky moaned again, clearly appreciative of Steve’s touches, and the tacit approval made Steve bold. He slid his hands down Bucky’s taut spine to the ridge of his ass, hoisting Bucky onto his lap on the bed. 

Bucky was already hard, and Steve’s cock required no encouragement, leaping to fully erect between one breath and the next. Bucky’s mouth left his and started trailing open-mouthed kisses down Steve’s neck. 

“Fuck, you taste good,” Bucky breathed. His hand was underneath Steve’s T-shirt, his thumb stroking over Steve’s nipple, making him shudder. 

“Want you naked,” Steve managed to force out. He’d already known that Bucky was a good talker, but he’d had no idea how excellent his mouth was at other things. Right now, Bucky’s talented lips were fastened on his collarbone, making him crazy. 

“Great idea.” Bucky moved off of Steve and dropped his sleep pants, and then he was totally, gloriously naked. It was like looking at a Greek statue, complete with missing arm. He was perfect.

“You’re perfect,” Steve said reverently. 

Bucky actually blushed. “No, I’m not.” 

That made Steve laugh. “I’m an artist, Bucky. I know what perfect looks like.” 

“I guess you’re a shit artist then,” Bucky said, but he was laughing too and then he was back on the bed and they were kissing again. Steve struggled out of his T-shirt, pants and socks, valiantly trying to keep their lips from separating in the process. Finally, he was in his boxer briefs, erection straining at the seam. 

“Are those Spider-Man underwear?”

“Shut up.” Steve pushed Bucky backwards on the bed, Steve on top of him. They were immediately kissing again.

Bucky pulled Steve’s underwear off. “These have got to go. They make me feel like I’m having sex with a teenager.” He stopped, a look of horror on his handsome face. “Please tell me you’re not some freakishly tall seventeen-year-old with a job and a credit-card.” 

“I’m twenty-seven,” Steve said, kissing Bucky again.

“Oh, thank God. And I’m twenty-eight,” Bucky said. “You can check my drivers’ license.”

“I believe you.”

Bucky laughed. “There’s a first.” 

“Shut up,” Steve said again. He grasped Bucky’s cock in his hand, lubricating his fist with Bucky’s pre-cum. Bucky gasped, hips rocking off the bed. “Like that, huh?” Steve grinned, pumping Bucky with a strong, steady rhythm.

“Fuck, Steve!” Bucky's head was thrown back, his hand fisting into the bedspread, his thigh muscles trembling. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Steve kissed Bucky almost chastely. Then he moved lower on the bed and took Bucky’s penis into his mouth. 

Bucky groaned loudly, hips arching as he pressed himself farther into Steve's mouth. Steve took him in, swallowing around the hard length of him; enjoying the slightly musky taste of Bucky’s skin. He licked and sucked, hand still pumping on the base of Bucky’s cock, losing himself in the rhythm and Bucky’s sounds of pleasure. 

“I’m gonna cum,” Bucky cried, hips stuttering. 

Steve let go, laughing at Bucky’s immediate wordless protest. “I don’t want you to cum like that.” 

“Oh yeah?” Bucky said, breathless. “How’d you want me to cum then?”

“With me balls deep inside you.”

Bucky’s eyes grew dark, his cock twitching. “Be right back.” So saying, he hopped off the bed and returned a moment later with a small cloth bag. Inside there were three condoms and a travel-sized bottle of lube.

“You were pretty confident, weren’t you?” Steve chastised him, even as he smoothed the condom over his penis. He was so hard now that it was almost painful. 

“I’m like a Boy Scout,” Bucky said as he flipped himself over onto his stomach, padding his hips with the multitude of pillows. 

“Always be prepared to be prepared, huh?” Steve said as he lubed up his fingers. Gently, he stroked the star of Bucky’s asshole, watching as it puckered under his touch. 

“This isn’t my first rodeo.” Bucky pressed backwards against Steve’s finger. “You don’t need to go slow.” 

“Noted,” Steve said. He slipped his index finger inside Bucky’s hole, feeling the tight walls of muscle. With Bucky’s encouraging noises he pressed further, and further still, until he felt the ring stretch, allowing him access. Bucky whimpered in pleasure and started thrusting against Steve’s finger. 

“Feels so good,” he moaned. “Keep doing that.” 

Carefully, Steve added his middle finger, stroking and stretching Bucky until the muscles were loose and lax and Bucky was keening, shoulder’s trembling. His back had a sheen of sweat covering it 

“You ready for me?” Steve asked, fingers moving deep inside Bucky. He was up to his knuckles, fingertips brushing Bucky’s prostate with every thrust. 

“Please,” Bucky whimpered again. “Fuck me Stevie, please!”

_Stevie._ Steve had never heard the nickname before, but he immediately liked it. Carefully, he removed his fingers and then got up onto his hands and knees. He lubed up his cock, then lined it up with Bucky’s stretched and waiting hole. He pressed forward, the head of his penis easily breaching Bucky’s entrance. He pushed himself in deeper, Bucky pushing back with a grunt of pleasure until his cock was completely surrounded. It was warm, almost hot, and sinfully tight. Steve groaned deep in his throat. “Jesus. You feel so good.” 

“So do you, Stevie,” Bucky panted. “Now fuck me!”

“Yessir.” Steve grinned. He started to move. Slow at first, to make sure he wasn’t hurting Bucky, then faster when it was clear Bucky wanted it. Bucky’s channel felt amazing wrapped around his cock: heat and friction in a perfect combination to have Steve hovering near the edge of orgasm. He wanted Bucky there, too. 

Steve sat back on his haunches, pulling Bucky’s hips with him so that Bucky’s straining cock was readily to hand. Steve grasped it, pumping it with long strokes. Bucky shuddered beneath him, whole body stiffening before he cried out his release. Bucky’s orgasm rippled through his body, making his muscles clench around Steve’s penis. Suddenly Steve was cumming, white-hot pleasure coursing through him, Bucky’s cum spurting over his hand.

It took a few minutes, but finally Steve was coherent enough to gently withdraw from Bucky and dump the used condom in the bathroom. He came back with a warm, damp towel to help clean Bucky up before collapsing into bed. 

It was nearly two a.m., and Steve was completely, utterly spent. He lay on his back, sated and happy and ready to sleep. To his surprise, Bucky curled up beside him, head on his chest. 

“I didn’t lie about the ring,” Bucky said.

Steve had nearly been asleep when Bucky’s words pulled him out from his slumber. “What?”

“Remember when I told that dick of a front desk clerk that my engagement ring had been blown off with my arm? I didn’t lie about that,” Bucky said. “That actually happened.” 

Steve was now very much awake. “You were engaged?”

“Yep. To a very sweet girl named Connie Powel.” The tone of Bucky’s voice hadn’t changed at all, but Steve could feel the tension in every place where their bodies were touching. 

“I guess you’re not engaged anymore?”

“Good guess. She, uh, didn’t sign up for this, either.” 

Steve knew what the _this_ was that Bucky was referring to; his injury and subsequent disability. Steve’s heart broke. “I’m so sorry.” 

“It was a long time ago. I hardly ever think about it,” Bucky said. He huffed out a laugh. “Okay. That was a lie.” 

“I’m so sorry she did that to you,” Steve said. “I’m sorry she wasn’t strong enough.”

“Me too,” Bucky sighed. “She was young though. We both were. I can’t really blame her for that. Well, not anymore.” 

Steve hugged Bucky a little tighter. “I bet it hurt when it happened.”

“Like hell,” Bucky replied. “I honestly think it hurt worse than losing my arm.” 

“I would never do that to you,” Steve said. It was a ridiculous thing to say. They barely knew each other. It was absolutely crazy for Steve to be making that kind of promise to Bucky. And yet he didn’t even try to stop it. 

“That’s cause you’re a scrapper,” Bucky said. “Too dumb to run away from a fight.” But Steve could hear the smile in his voice.

“It’s not dumb if you win,” Steve said, and Bucky laughed out loud.

* * *

When Steve woke, the bed was empty. 

California-warm sunshine was pouring through the suite’s giant windows, illuminating the room in a yellow glow. All trace of the storm was gone, replaced by fluffy clouds in a brilliant light blue sky. 

Steve sat up. The morning light showed no trace of the room’s second occupant. 

“Bucky?” Steve called. Just as he suspected, there was no answer. 

He sagged back down on the bed and closed his eyes. He’d been played. Bucky had played him just as surely as he’d played the desk clerk and room service. Only Steve hadn’t handed over merely a gourmet burger and a free dessert. Steve had handed over the key to his heart. 

“Damnit,” Steve muttered. He threw his forearm over his eyes, totally miserable. How could he have let this happen? He _knew_ that Bucky was a liar, and yet he’d totally allowed himself to be taken in by sweet words and eyes as blue as the morning’s sky… _I knew the risks when I signed up,_ Bucky had said to him the night before, and Steve thought he had, too. But clearly, he’d lied to himself just as well as Bucky had lied to him.

Wearily, Steve sat back up. Now that the storm had passed, flights would start leaving LAX, and he’d have to contact the airport to see when his would be rescheduled. He should also check in with Peggy and Sam and let them know his new arrival time. He sighed and scrubbed his face, heart heavy. Same time yesterday all he could think about was getting home to Brooklyn. Now, he knew that all he’d be thinking about for the entire five-and-a-half hour flight was Bucky’s smile, his body, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed. 

Steve got out of bed, feeling tired and heavy. He picked up yesterday’s clothing from where it’d been scattered across the floor and padded over to the closet to grab his bag to take into the bathroom. He opened the closet door. And stared. 

Bucky had left his raincoat and his expensive designer bag in the closet. His shoes were gone, but his blue suit jacket was still hanging up on the hook where he’d placed it the night before. Steve blinked, completely unprepared to see Bucky’s things. Bucky had left already; why hadn’t he taken his things with him?

While he was still staring in confusion at the clothes, he heard the unmistakable sound of the room door opening. Steve turned towards it just in time to see Bucky push it open with his hip, a cardboard tray with two coffees and a small paper bag hanging from his right hand. 

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Bucky said without really looking at him. “Grab the coffees, would ya? I have to get my card out of the lock.” 

Wordlessly, Steve dropped his clothes and took the tray and the bag, his brain still unable to process what was going on. 

Bucky came into the room, letting the door fall shut behind him. “Jeez the Starbucks was packed this morning! It musta taken me half an hour to get two black coffees and a couple of scones. I hope you like your coffee black and your scones with blueberries because that’s all I ordered when I finally got to the front of the—you’re naked.” 

Steve was still staring at him, tray held in both hands and bag of scones hanging from his fingers. “I thought you’d left.” 

“I did,” Bucky said. “To get us breakfast.” He looked at Steve intently. “Wait. Did you mean _left_ left. Like, not coming back left?”

“Of course not,” Steve said. He put the coffees and bag down on the table and crossed his arms, suddenly aware of how completely naked he was. He straightened his back. He’d seen Bucky naked too.

“Liar,” Bucky said. He moved closer to Steve. “You really thought that, after what we shared last night, that I’d just up and leave you in the morning?”

“No,” Steve said. 

“You did! You really thought I’d left.” Bucky ran his hand over his face. “Jesus.” 

“I was just worried,” Steve tried to explain. “Because I woke up and you were gone and—”

“And you still think I’m a liar, don’t you?” Bucky said. “That I’m the type of guy who could have sex with someone and then just disappear the next morning. That’s who you think I am.” 

“No!” Steve said immediately. “It’s just…Well, you said that you told the room service lady exactly what she wanted to hear, and when I woke up, and you were gone, I thought—”

“That I’d spun you some line the night before just to get you into bed with me?” Bucky sat down heavily onto the overstuffed armchair. He looked completely dejected. “I told you some real shit last night, Steve. Because I trusted you. I kind of thought you trusted me.” 

“I did! I do!” Steve said. He pulled on last night’s underwear and sat on the edge of the bed facing Bucky. “I do trust you. I promise.” 

“Then why were you so sure that I’d left you?” 

“Because…because you seem too good to be true.” Steve let his gaze fall to the floor. “Your charm, your looks. Everything about you is a dream come true. And me? There’s nothing special about me. I’m just a kid from Brooklyn.” 

“Steve,” Bucky said. “Look at me.” 

Steve raised his head, face hot. “Yeah?”

“I’m going to tell you something,” Bucky said. “And everything I say is going to be one-hundred percent true. Alright?” 

Steve nodded. “Alright.” 

“And you’re going to have to believe me, okay? No matter how much of a liar you think I am. You’ll have to believe me on this.” 

“I don’t think you’re a liar,” Steve protested. “I swear I don’t.” 

“But you’re going to believe me, right?” At Steve’s repeated nod, Bucky continued. “Stevie, you are one of the most handsome, most charming, smartest, funniest and most _decent_ men that I’ve ever met. I’d give my left arm all over again to get the chance to be with a guy like you, and I can’t believe I’m lucky enough that you gave me a second glance. So don’t tell me you’re nothing special. Stevie, you _invented_ special.” 

Steve swallowed, throat suddenly tight. “For real?”

Bucky’s blue eyes never broke contact. “Cross my heart and hope to die.” 

Steve couldn’t contain his smile. “You really want to be with me?”

“As long as you’ll let me,” Bucky said. “As long as you’d want a jobless one-armed guy who sometimes fudges the truth a little.” 

“I want that guy. I want _you_ ,” Steve said. “For as long as you’ll have me.” 

Bucky’s smile was far too self-satisfied. “Told ya I didn’t lie about us getting married.”

* * *

Of course, Bucky managed to finagle them both into first class for their flight home.

“Our honeymoon was ruined by the tropical storm,” Bucky said mournfully. “It was so nice of Nancy to upgrade our seats to help make up for it.” 

Steve rolled his eyes even as he took a sip of his complimentary champagne. “We weren’t on our honeymoon.”

“But we could’ve been.” Bucky winked at him, then followed it up with a quick kiss. “Besides, she’s not paying for the upgrade, and this is a million-dollar—”

“—Airline that can afford it. Yes, I know. But maybe we could cool it a bit with telling people that we’re married?”

“Fine. I will stop telling people that we’re married.”

“Or engaged,” Steve added.

It was Bucky’s turn to roll his eyes. “Or engaged.”

“Thank you,” Steve said seriously. “Because I meant what I said last night. I really do think honesty is very important.”

“I do, too,” Bucky said. He threw up his hands at Steve’s look. “I swear!” 

Steve sighed. “Look, Bucky. I like you. I like you a _lot._ and I’d really like this relationship to go somewhere, but I need to know I can trust you to tell the truth.”

“I do tell the truth!” 

“Except when it gets you into first class.” 

“And free dessert. Oh my God,” he said at Steve’s censuring look. “Alright, alright! I won’t tell people we’re married to get free stuff anymore.” 

“Or engaged,” Steve added.

“Or engaged,” Bucky repeated. “Until we are.” He grinned.

Steve laughed. “You’re pretty confident about that, aren’t you?”

“Damn straight,” Bucky said decisively. “Besides, I know it’s going to happen.” 

“Oh yeah?” Steve asked, feeling like he was bubbling with happiness, his heart sparkling like the champagne. “How’d you know that?”

“Because you’re already trying to make an honest man out of me,” Bucky said. Then he laughed, and Steve couldn’t help but kiss him.

* * *

“The weather is perfect,” Steve exclaimed as he leaned back on his beach chair. 

“I know right?” Bucky said, delighted. “Sure beats the hell outta New York in December!”

They were lounging poolside at the private resort owned by _Stark Industries_ on the West Coast of Barbados, enjoying an all-expense-paid trip from Bucky’s employer. 

Bucky’s biological engineering team had earned the trip due to their extensive and effective work on prosthetic limbs. It was their reward for the many long hours they put in to produce what was now considered the most advanced prosthetic on the planet. Even the Wakandans were interested in the arm and leg prototypes, and that said a lot.  


“It was really nice of you to invite me to come.” Steve took a sip of his piña colada.

“You’re my boyfriend. I wasn’t gonna leave you behind. Besides, you’re part of the team, even if you’re only on contract. All of us agreed.” 

“I’m just making concept art for the final product. It’s not nearly as cool as what you guys are actually putting together.”

“You’re part of the team,” Bucky said decisively. “Part of _my_ team.” He reached across the space between the chairs to take Steve’s hand. 

Steve squeezed Bucky’s hand with affection. He stroked over Bucky’s thumb with his own. “I’m really glad you brought me.” 

“I’m really glad you came.” Bucky smirked with his double-entendre and Steve laughed. 

“That bedroom really _is_ something else,” Steve said, thinking of the room where they’d spent an extremely enjoyable first night. “It reminds me of the honeymoon suite in California the night we met. You remember that?”

“How could I forget?” Bucky said. “One of the best nights of my life.”

Steve felt his heart swell with total love. “Mine, too.” 

“Besides,” Bucky continued, “this week is our anniversary, so it’s been easy to remember.” 

Steve sat up. “Bucky, it’s December! We met in September. This isn’t our anniversary!”

Bucky sat up too, _shushing_ Steve with a censoring look. He glanced around to make sure no one else was in earshot. “Keep your voice down!”

The good feeling in Steve’s heart shrivelled, replaced by a sense of dread. “Bucky,” he said warningly. “What did you do?”

“I might have said it’s our wedding anniversary to the front desk when you were getting our bags from the bus, which might be why we’re in the best room in the hotel?” Bucky bit his lip. 

The dread in Steve’s stomach immediately curdled into anger. “Bucky! You told me—you _promised_ —that you’d _never_ tell people that we were married or engaged when it wasn’t true ever again!”

Bucky blinked at Steve. His eyes, blue like the ocean around them, totally guileless. “Did I promise that?”

“You did!” Steve insisted. “Over a year ago. You promised you’d never lie about that again!” 

“Let me get this straight,” Bucky said. “Over a year ago, when we first met, I promised you that I’d never, ever lie about us being married or engaged ever again?”

“Yes, you did.” Steve said. He was working hard to keep his calm and not make a scene on the pool deck where most of the resort’s population was clustered around them. “And I’m really upset that you lied about it again.” 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said. “I’m really sorry I upset you.” 

“You did,” Steve said. “You know how I feel about lying.” 

“Okay,” Bucky said. He picked up the draw-string bag he’d brought down from their room to hold his paperback, sunglasses and sunscreen, and started rifling through it. “Okay. I got an idea how I can fix this.” 

“Yeah,” Steve said. “You can fix this by telling everyone that we’re _not_ celebrating our wedding anniversary. You can tell—” Steve stopped talking. 

Bucky was down on one knee, arm outstretched in front of him, a red velvet box balanced on the palm of his right hand. “Or maybe we could get married.”

Steve’s mouth fell open. “Bucky?”

“I love you, Stevie. I think I’ve been in love with you ever since I first saw you arguing with the front desk clerk in Los Angeles. You are the best man I’ve ever met, and you make me want to be a better person. I want to spend the rest of my life being the man you actually deserve. So, Steven Grant Rogers, love of my life. Will you marry me?”

Steve’s heart was pounding. A crazy rhythm of joy that made him feel like laughing and crying at the same time. “Yes,” he said, and then again, “yes!” 

“I love you,” Bucky repeated. He stood and Steve stood as well, and then Bucky slipped the ring onto Steve’s left hand. Steve knew he was crying, his eyes overflowing with a happiness his body couldn’t contain. Dimly he was aware of other people around them, clapping and cheering for the newly engaged couple, but he only had eyes for Bucky. 

“I love you,” Steve said back. “I love you so much James Buchanan Barnes. Always and forever.” 

“I’ll love you until the end of time,” Bucky said, his blue eyes shiny with tears. “Cross my heart and hope to die.” 

END


End file.
